Reincarnate as the Villainess's Husband - Chapter 117

Chapter 117: Mother of a future ruler
Neonidas walked silently through the long stone corridors, his thoughts still echoing with the conversation he had in Celeste’s room. Her question lingered in his mind like a shadow: Could he truly be a father? He could raise a strong heir, but did he truly know what it meant to be a father? His own father had barely been a figure in his life.

From what little he remembered, Duke Leonardo had not been a good father. But what made a father good? Was it kindness, or was it the harshness needed to prepare a child for the realities of the world? Neonidas did not know the answer. He had never given it much thought. But now, something new was emerging. It was time to take this fatherhood matter a little more seriously, and he was keenly aware of it.

Pushing his thoughts aside, he continued toward Elenora’s room. The dim lights flickered against the walls, making the palace’s cold and rigid atmosphere feel even heavier. When he reached her door, he knocked without hesitation.

There was a brief silence before a soft, but cautious, voice responded,

“You may enter.”

As Neonidas stepped inside, he found Elenora in the corner of the room, standing in front of a large bookshelf. She was holding an old book, but her eyes were not moving across the lines. Instead, she was absentmindedly tracing the book’s edges with her fingers.

When Elenora lifted her gaze to him, there was, as always, a distance, a calculation in her expression. Unlike Celeste, reading her emotions was far more difficult.

“Sit down,” she said, directly and to the point.

Neonidas took one of the chairs in the middle of the room. Elenora slowly closed the book, placed it on the table, and sat across from him. For a moment, they simply looked at each other—a brief yet meaningful silence where words felt unnecessary.

“I thought you didn’t like reading,” Neonidas said as he sat down.

Elenora raised an eyebrow slightly. It was not a look of surprise or defense—more of a mild response to an unnecessary comment. When she placed the book on the table, her fingers lightly brushed against its leather cover. Her hands were accustomed to gripping sword hilts and the roughness of battle, not the delicate texture of paper. But even in Elenora’s world, knowledge could be just as dangerous as a blade.

“I don’t,” she finally answered, her voice steady and firm as always. “But sometimes, you have to read to learn what you need to know.”

Neonidas caught the shadow in her eyes. She wasn’t just a warrior with an icy demeanor; she had a calculating mind, always weighing strengths and weaknesses.

“I prefer to learn in my own way,” he said with a faint smirk.

Elenora tilted her head slightly, an almost amused expression crossing her face. “Of course. Because feeling something teaches more than reading about it.”

Neonidas looked at her and realized once again how unreachable she truly was. She was beautiful and alluring, but that allure was only surface-deep. No one could claim her, possess her. She was fiery but not warm; challenging, but not coy. She had a sharp, almost masculine edge—an instinctual defiance that only warriors possessed. Most importantly, she never tried to be desirable.

And that, in a way, intrigued Neonidas.

“I spoke with Celeste,” he said, changing the subject.

Elenora narrowed her eyes slightly. “And?”

Neonidas leaned back in his chair, watching her. “We talked about fatherhood.”

Elenora let out a short laugh, but it was more of a scoff than amusement. “You?”

Neonidas gave a small shrug. “It was a surprise to me, too.”

She observed him, her gaze analytical. She wasn’t judging him, but she was measuring him. And he could feel it—he had her full attention. That was no small feat.

“Being a father… is not easy,” she said finally, her voice more serious. “It’s more than just raising a strong heir. You can teach swordplay, war strategies… but can you teach a child how to be human?”

Neonidas sat in silence for a moment, then tilted his head slightly, meeting her gaze.

“I didn’t come here for advice on fatherhood. Celeste said you wanted to talk to me. What is it?”

Elenora leaned back slightly at his words, the usual coldness returning to her expression. She studied him, evaluating him. The fact that she was a woman he had claimed as the spoils of war reshaped the dynamic between them. But Elenora had never been just an ordinary concubine. She was a woman who did not seem conquered, who moved independently, even with chains. At least, that’s how she appeared.

“It’s true that I have something to tell you,” she finally said, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. “But first… I have a question.”

Neonidas tilted his head slightly, indicating he was listening.

Elenora leaned forward just a bit, her voice dropping to an almost whisper, yet there was no fragility in it. “What do you truly see me as?”

Neonidas locked eyes with her. There was something different in her expression—an emotion that wasn’t usually there. It was strange, as if she was wondering whether he valued her. It was the kind of moment where a woman sought validation from a man.

“I see you as mine,” he said calmly, without blinking.

Elenora did not look away, her gaze unwavering. In the dim lighting of the room, the shadows made her expression even harder to read. But Neonidas noticed—the barely perceptible tremor in her pupils, the slight tightening and relaxing of her lips, the faint clench of her jaw… She had expected this answer, and yet, she hadn’t.

Neonidas’ voice had been calm, but there was an undeniable authority in it. As certain as he was of his own existence, of his own breath, he was just as certain that Elenora belonged to him. It was not something he questioned—it was simply a fact.

Elenora remained silent for a while. Her fingers twitched slightly against the table, but she did not break eye contact. Then she took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair.

“I see,” she said, her voice still controlled. But Neonidas noticed—beneath that hardened exterior, there was the faintest of cracks.

“Was this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Neonidas sensed something shifting in Elenora’s silence. Behind her usual steel-like demeanor, for a fleeting moment, a crack had appeared. But Elenora was quick to regain her composure. She took a deep breath, leaned back in her chair, and fixed her gaze on Neonidas with that familiar, distant look.

“No,” she finally said. “This is not what I wanted to talk about.”

Neonidas raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing. He knew that Elenora weighed her words carefully—she never spoke unnecessarily.

She brushed her fingers lightly over the edge of the book on the table, not out of hesitation, but as if she were contemplating how to begin. Finally, she met his eyes again.

“I’m with child,” she said.

The words cut through the air like a blade.

Neonidas kept his expression unreadable as he looked at her. He did not avert his gaze, nor did he so much as twitch a muscle. But deep inside, he felt the weight of her admission.

Elenora, without breaking eye contact, continued. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Neonidas tilted his head slightly. “I’m not. But that doesn’t mean it’s insignificant. Are you certain?”

Elenora’s lips curved ever so slightly—not into a smile, but into an expression that conveyed how well she understood him.

“Considering the slight swelling of my belly, the morning sickness, the exhaustion, and all the other signs… Yes, I am certain.”

Neonidas took a moment to process her words. His face betrayed no emotion, as if what he had just heard had no effect on him at all. But deep within his eyes, hidden in their depths, a shadow flickered—an echo of a thought, or perhaps a feeling. It was fleeting, controlled, and locked away before it could surface.

Silence filled the room. She was watching him, waiting for any reaction. But there was also something else in her gaze—a challenge, an expectation.

At last, Neonidas stood from his chair and moved to sit beside her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

Elenora tensed slightly at the feel of his arms encircling her. But it wasn’t rejection—it was the instinctive caution of a warrior caught off guard. His touch was possessive, yet surprisingly calm. He wasn’t just pulling her toward him; he was holding her—not like a prisoner, not like a lover, but like a warrior grasping a blood-earned sword. Firm, resolute, unquestioning.

Elenora lifted her head slightly and studied his face. She examined the deep, unreadable thoughts behind his gaze. Men reacted to such news in many ways—shock, fear, joy. But Neonidas showed none of these. Instead, he looked at her as if he were assessing something that belonged to him—not just as a woman, but as the one carrying his child.

“What are you planning to do?” Elenora asked, her voice as steady as ever, but something unspoken lingered beneath it.

Neonidas leaned in slightly, his head tilting as he regarded her. “You are carrying my child,” he said, his voice low, firm, and devoid of doubt. “That can only mean one thing.”

Elenora narrowed her eyes. “And what is that?”

Neonidas moved even closer, his fingers tightening slightly around her waist. “You are no longer just the spoils of war.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

Neonidas continued, his voice unwavering, laced with a decisive finality.

“You are the mother of my heir.”

Those words created another fracture in the walls she had built around herself.

As a woman taken after the war, she had always believed she would remain in a fixed position. She could be strong, she could resist, she could carve out a place for herself—but she would always bear the mark of ownership. Yet now, with those words, everything shifted.

From a war prize to the mother of a future ruler.

A new fire flickered in Elenora’s eyes. This was the gaze of a warrior, but it was different now. It was not the expression of a woman merely enduring her fate. It was something new—something uncharted, something powerful.

And Neonidas had just awakened it.